


Second Chance

by nochick_fics



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon - Anime, Crossover, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: Seishirou is given a second chance at life.  The question is, what will he do with it?





	1. The Price

The sake was good tonight. Or perhaps it just tasted better when flavored with silence. Yuuko presumed the latter, as this was the first time in a long time that she had been completely alone in the shop. This  _version_  of the shop, at any rate.  
  
The reason for the solitude was simple enough, yet not so simple at all. She was, for all intents and purposes, trapped. A prisoner of an illusion, frozen in a moment of time, rendered such by one of the precious few who had the ability to bend it to their will. Mokona and Maru and Moro did not exist here. Nor would Watanuki and Doumeki come calling because they were  
  
 _(alive)_  
  
elsewhere, in a world where time marched on. The  _real world_ , so to speak. Although it was merely one of many.  
  
The hunter had already paid a steep price for the power to move between dimensions, a sacrifice made willingly in order to find the one he so desperately sought. Yuuko’s existence in this place was his doing, but for that, she bore him no ill will. She understood all too well the lengths some went for love. Besides, now that the price had been paid, she would fade back to black soon enough. So for the time being, she would drink her sake and smoke her pipe and listen to the nothing. She would enjoy the all too often overlooked act of living. Until it was time to die again.  
  
He had chosen this place and time for a reason. To seek her assistance with a wish that only she could grant him. And so she had. For a price, of course. A price that was even higher than the one he paid long before. Because in order to receive  _this_ wish, he would have to forfeit the first. This meant that he would have to give up the hunt for the vampire that was always just beyond his grasp, at the very real risk of dying from being denied his blood. Yuuko had anticipated hesitation when she told him that. But to her surprise, he accepted without pause.  
  
One life, one existence… in exchange for another. Not forever, though. Because death was absolute. Always absolute. Prolonging the inevitable, no matter how long, would never change the end result. The dream would eventually come to an end.  
  
However, a reprieve from the darkness was possible, but only for a short period of time.  
  
And  _that_  was Seishirou’s wish. That the Seishirou who gave up his life would have that very same life back. For a little while.  
  
It was an act of generosity that Yuuko would have never believed the hunter was capable of expressing. Perhaps that brother of his was a far better influence than she realized.  
  
And later on, when the darkness finally came to take her back, she found herself wondering if that sweet onmyouji would ever know just how deeply he was loved…  
  
*****  
  
In one of the many rooms of the Municipal Building in Tokyo, Fuuma watched as Seishirou looked out of the window upon the desolate world that was being drenched in the seemingly endless pouring rain. The kind of rain that burned the skin when touched.  
  
“Of all the worlds to get stuck in, I can’t believe you chose this one,” he said, shaking his head.  
  
Fuuma could see his brother’s smile in the reflection of the window.  
  
“Call it nostalgia,” Seishirou said.  
  
“Nostalgia, huh?” Fuuma crossed the room and stood beside him. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that you think Kamui and Subaru might come back here?”  
  
“Well… that, too.”  
  
Fuuma grinned and nudged Seishirou in the arm. Moments such as these were the ones he treasured the most. Because underneath all the layers, and in spite of everything he had done, his brother was truly kind at heart. It was a side of Seishirou that few had a chance to appreciate, although he no longer took such drastic measures to conceal that part of his nature since the events that unfolded in Nihon Country.  
  
“So?” Fuuma glanced down at Seishirou, who, while older, was a fair bit shorter than him. “Was it worth it? Everything you gave up for someone you don’t even know?”  
  
Seishirou fell silent as he contemplated the question, while outside, thunder roared overhead.  
  
“He’s  _me_ , Fuuma,” he finally replied. “A part of me, just like you. And he deserves a chance to make things right.”  
  
Fuuma was not convinced. He had heard many things from Yuuko about this other Seishirou, a cold-blooded killer who did not sound a thing like the Seishirou he knew. It was hard to believe that such a version of his brother existed somewhere out there.  
  
“Do you think he will?”  
  
“I don’t know. I can only wish him back.” Seishirou glanced at his sibling, revealing his blind right eye, the original price paid for his original wish. “It’s up to him to do the rest.”  
  
*****  
  
In another Tokyo, during another time, a young man played basketball in the park.  
  
Fuuma always waited until nighttime to go. Better to practice in the silence and the dark than draw unwanted attention during the day. And although he had not played in a single game for the better part of five years now, he still moved around the court just as skillfully as any professional. A useless activity, it would seem. But it was the only thing that pushed the horror of the past to the back of his mind, where it didn’t hurt  _as_  much as it so often did.  
  
Needless to say, he visited the park a lot.  
  
After a particularly impressive layup, he returned to the center of the court, staring into space as the oddly soothing sound of the bouncing ball echoed loudly around him. He tried not to think about Kamui, or the night they had stood in that very same spot, discussing promises that were fated to be broken. So instead, he dribbled. And when that was proving not to offer the distraction that he had hoped for, he slung the ball towards the hoop with a grunt of anguish…  
  
… where it was caught by a man in a suit.  
  
Fuuma squinted at the figure dressed in black, right down to his sunglasses.  He looked… he looked like…  
  
"... It can't be."  
  
Fuuma's eyes grew wide and his heart began to pound.  
  
 _“Seishirou?”_  
  
That was impossible. Seishirou Sakurazuka was dead. Fuuma had witnessed his death himself through Kakyou’s dream.  
  
Yet, there he was.  
  
“Hello, Fuuma.”  
  
“But you…  _how_...?”  
  
“A gift. From my other self.”

Seishirou’s smile was as pleasant as always. Fuuma recalled that same smile on the day they had embarked on a destructive rampage together, flashed without a care for lives that were lost. It was one of the reasons they had gotten along so well, back when Fuuma was… what he was.

But he wasn’t that Fuuma anymore.  
  
And if Seishirou was alive, what exactly did that mean?  
  
“You aren’t the Fuuma that I once knew. And the Earth is still in one piece.” Seishirou glanced down at the basketball in his hands before returning his gaze to the young man in front of him. “I take it the Dragons of Heaven were successful?”  
  
The answer was far more complicated than Fuuma was prepared to explain. Casualties were heavy on both sides during that battle. And in the end, Fuuma had run Kamui through with the Divine Sword, thereby guaranteeing victory for the Dragons of Earth and the complete destruction of the planet.  
  
But then…Kamui… with his dying breath… saved the world. And everyone in it. Including Fuuma.  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Seishirou said, sensing his struggle to form a response. He let the ball fall from his hands, where it rolled over to the sideline. “The fate of this world never really concerned me one way or the other.”  
  
Fuuma took a step backwards, tendrils of fear weaving through his gut. He was no longer the “other” Kamui and he had no power to defend himself if Seishirou decided to attack him. He supposed that he could run--  
  
“I have no intention of hurting you, Fuuma.” The assassin removed his sunglasses and calmly regarded him with his one good eye. “I was rather fond of our previous association. As a result, you have my word that you will come to no harm by my hand.”  
  
“Then what do you want from me?” Fuuma asked, his guard dropping ever so slightly.  
  
“I want an answer.”  
  
Seishirou took another step towards him. And then another. Step after step until he was face to face with the former acquaintance who was a brother to him in another world.  
  
“Where is Subaru?”  
  



	2. The Return

Subaru had no idea how long he sat on the edge of his bed, staring with his good eye down at the pack of cigarettes in his right hand until it became nothing but a blur. Minutes, hours, perhaps even days for all he knew. It wasn’t quite like the catatonic state he had intentionally embraced not once, but twice out of heartache over Seishirou, but it was close. The only reason that he had not surrendered to it a third and quite possibly final time was that he felt he owed it to Kamui’s memory to maintain some manner of awareness, however faint. Kamui had paid the ultimate price to protect the ones he loved, and in doing so brought Subaru back to life; it wouldn’t have been right to throw that away and escape to the soothing comfort of nothingness, as much as Subaru wanted to do just that.  
  
His grandmother had long since given up hope that he would resume his duties as the head of the Sumeragi clan. She still asked about it on the rare occasions they spoke, but as with many of the topics mentioned during their mostly one-sided conversations, the subject of his leadership was just a way to break the silence. Subaru knew that she was immensely worried about him; after sacrificing all of her power and practically destroying her body to save him from Seishirou’s clutches, she still hadn’t been able to protect Subaru’s heart, which was broken irreparably from the most damning of betrayals.  
  
And so, such was his life, every single day, sitting in the darkness of his room, filled with pain and longing and regret as he mourned the beautiful and terrible man he had loved. Still loved. Would always love.  _Always._ He only ventured out into the world when he needed food or cigarettes, and occasionally to check in on Fuuma, who had his own unbearable guilt to shoulder. Other than that, he sat and smoked and wrapped himself in a shroud of sadness over all the things that might have been and would never be. He didn’t care about the state of the world or his place within it. He didn’t care about anything.  
  
Subaru flipped open the pack. He took out a cigarette and tucked it between his lips, dragging deeply as he lit it.  He sucked a heavy hit of smoke into his lungs and exhaled it through his mouth, where it rose upward in thick tendrils. It was not a habit created out of need and the intake of nicotine did nothing at all for him physically. Instead, smoking for Subaru was always more of a way to feel closer to Seishirou, to engage in the habit he most associated with the assassin. For as long as he could remember, rare were the times when Seishirou was without a cigarette. Holding one between his fingers now was, in a silly and desperate way, the closest he felt to being with him again.  
  
He closed his eyes and took another drag, and as he had done so many times before, he recalled Seishirou’s gentle taunts about how smoking was—  
  
 _“—bad for your health.”_  
  
Startled into awareness, the onmyouji’s eyes flew open. His memory of Seishirou’s voice was so vivid that he could have sworn he heard it for real. With a heart that had shattered ages ago, perhaps his mind was now finally following suit.  
  
Subaru shook his head. He was not necessarily opposed to insanity, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to be accompanied by the sound of Seishirou’s voice. He could bear a lot of things,  _would_  bear a lot of things until the day he died, but that was just… it was too much. Too hurtful.  
  
As he raised the cigarette to his lips, the voice spoke out again from the other side of the door.  
  
 _“Subaru.”_  
  
It wasn’t in his head.  
  
That was Seishirou’s voice, right outside of his door. And whatever lingering doubts he had about what he heard were swept away by the sound of soft knocking.  
  
 _“Open the door, Subaru.”_  
  
“This isn’t real,” Subaru insisted shakily as he stared at the door. “It can’t be.”  
  
But real or not, he was unable to resist rising to his feet and crossing the room, drawn towards the door like a moth to flame. Subaru grabbed onto the doorknob and turned it, wondering and dreading and hoping as he opened the door…  
  
His smile was exactly the way that Subaru remembered it. Kind and sweet with absolutely no hint whatsoever of the cruelness beneath.  
  
“Hello, Subaru.”  
  
“I’m dreaming,” Subaru whispered, slowly backing away from the man in the doorway who doubled in his vision on account of the tears he didn’t know he had left. “This isn’t real,” he reiterated. “ _You’re_  not real.”  
  
Seishirou stepped into the small room and shut the door, watching Subaru with his good eye, his expression a mixture of empathy (or what passed as such for a man like him) and amusement. “I’m very real, Subaru. And you know that I am.”  
  
Subaru froze as the older man approached him, his brain not yet able to accept what his eye was seeing. Through no desire of his own, Subaru had killed Seishirou, thanks to his twin sister’s final spell. How was it that he was standing in front of him now, very much alive?  
  
Then again… did it really matter how? Seishirou was there, right there, right now, close enough to touch. It was something Subaru never thought he would be able to do again after that horrible, fateful night on Rainbow Bridge when he cradled Seishirou’s bloody and lifeless body in his arms with no intention of letting go.  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
Subaru shuddered when Seishirou took the forgotten cigarette out of his hand and grazed his fingers ever so slightly before helping himself to a drag.  
  
“There are many different worlds, Subaru,” Seishirou explained. “And in each of them, different versions of ourselves. In another Tokyo, during another time, a hunter named Seishirou decided to wish me back.” He stepped over to the bed and picked up an ashtray from the floor. “In doing so, he gave up his quest to find his Subaru.”  
  
“… Me?” Subaru asked, confused but fascinated.  
  
“Not exactly.” Seishirou smiled knowingly. “That Tokyo’s Subaru is… not quite the same as you.”  
  
He finished the cigarette and snuffed it out, then set the ashtray back on the floor. After that, he returned to Subaru, gazing down at him. He cupped Subaru’s cheek in his hand and used his thumb to wipe away the tear that had fallen. Subaru leaned into his palm, his entire being a whirlwind of confusion and fear and hope over the sudden reemergence of everything he ever wanted since the day he had finally admitted to himself that he was in love with this man. All of the subsequent battles since that day, all of the fighting and all of the death, had not changed that. Seishirou had stripped him of everything, murdered Hokuto and countless others, left him emotionally and physically battered, and  _still_ , Subaru was happier in that one single, unexpected moment than he had ever been his entire life.  
  
Understanding this, he realized that it had been pointless to concern himself with his sanity. To love Seishirou after all that he had done was madness enough.  
  
“Do you wish to kill me again?” Seishirou asked.  
  
Subaru met his gaze, staring into the eyes that mirrored his own. It was right after that crazy woman blinded Seishirou that Subaru was able to acknowledge his feelings, and in spite of the horror that followed, that one sightless eye had always served as a reminder of Seishirou’s willingness to protect him. Or so he once thought.  
  
Shaking his head, he replied, “That wasn’t what I wanted the first time. Killing you was never my true wish.”  
  
Seishirou let his fingers trail along Subaru’s jaw. “Do you remember the last thing I said to you?”  
  
How could Subaru ever forget the dying confession whispered into his ear, obliterating years of what he only thought he knew about Seishirou’s true feelings? In an existence plagued with misery and grief, it was the one thing that haunted him more than anything, knowing that Seishirou had died returning his affection, having essentially committed suicide  _because_  of it.  
  
“I remember,” he said, nodding.  
  
A stunned Subaru gasped as Seishirou drew him into a brief but tender kiss. His first ever and infinitely better than how he used to imagine it would be.  
  
“I would like to prove that to you,” Seishirou said after they parted. “If you’ll let me.”


End file.
